


Daddy's Going To Buy You A Mockingbird

by GoofyGodTier (johnfightmelaurens)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M, Mute John, Mute!John, Muteness, POV Second Person, Single Parents, babysitter dave, elderly kanaya, poor egberts, rich striders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:43:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnfightmelaurens/pseuds/GoofyGodTier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Egbert has worked hard trying to be an honest working man but with the economy the way it is, he has trouble affording everything he wants to for his son. One day when Dave (his teenaged babysitter) is watching his four year old son, John consumes cleaning products that leave him mute. In order to keep James from filing a lawsuit, Dirk "Bro" Strider starts trying to take care of the Egberts with his money and it doesn't take long for James to develop a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy's Going To Buy You A Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic was basically inspired by this piece of work by fastpuck on tumblr (http://fastpuck.tumblr.com/post/27475803762/dad-egbert-the-early-years-in-which-baby-daddy). 
> 
> I know that I am probably the last person to ever try and write something like this but I just had to try. I just have a lot of feelings for the idea of poor Egberts.

Your name is James Egbert and your mother was right, you must remain optimistic.

The first thing you do when your mother dies and you’re left all by yourself with a newborn son to raise is shrug it off. The first thing you do when it turns out that your mother didn’t have any money so there was nothing to be left to you and your son is to relax and enjoy the fact that you at least have a steady job that supplies day care. The first thing you do when you get laid off from said job that supplies day care is blame the economy. The first thing you do when the house you live in gets foreclosed is mutter a curse under your breath, not loud enough for the baby to hear.

You managed to scrape up enough money to move into a cheap fixer upper. It’s freezing in the winter and sweltering during the summer, especially by Washington’s standards. It’s not the best house, but the best you could afford.

John was the most important thing in your life. He was your son and you would do anything to keep him safe and give him anything he wanted. The second you were able to bare to leave him alone, you passed him off to neighbors so you could scurry off to make money for your rent. You got whatever jobs you could land, including a night shift at McDonald’s and working in the back at Target. You were the best the father you could be. You had to be the best for your perfect angel.

John was as well behaved as you could hope for. He was the sweetest child and never gave your elderly neighbors a single issue. Because of your work schedule, you missed his first steps and his first word (which was “nana”). You didn’t get to spend much time with him but he still knew that you were his father and Ms. Maryam was a total sweetheart about letting him call her Nana. 

You remember that one time, when John was almost three, you came home and took him into your arms, holding him close. He started crying, screaming, and begging to see Nana. You calmly told him that he didn’t need Nana now that Daddy was home. He didn’t listen and demanded to see Nana. You felt awful and promised him you would, taking him next door immediately. You apologized to Ms. Maryam right away, but she assured you that it was alright; John was always welcome in her house. John immediately demanded you put him down and ran over to his nana. She bent down and asked him what was the matter and he whispered in her ear. Smiling, she lead him to the couch and laid him down. He was asleep before she pulled the blanket to tuck him in. You remember smiling at your boy, knowing that it wasn’t you who put his mind to ease; it was Ms. Maryam.

You were going to ask her if it would be alright if John stayed the night when she lead you to the kitchen and sat you down at the kitchen table. You were still in your Target uniform and hadn’t had a chance to change yet. She made a pot of tea as you waited quietly, gazing at your son across the hall. He was sound asleep, that was enough to make you smile. 

“I told him about my son today,” she told you.

You were surprised. “You have a son? He must be off and married at this rate,” you said. It had never occurred to you that maybe your elderly neighbor had ever been married, or maybe even had children.

She was quiet for a minute before bringing two cups of tea to the table, passing one to you. She sat across from you and smiled sadly into her drink.

“Oh, he isn’t. I wish, more than anything, that he was, but my boy never lived that long. He... He had cancer when he was just a toddler. He died before his fourth birthday...” she said quietly as she sipped her tea. She was a quiet and reserved woman, more put together than most women in their late sixties, early seventies. You had never asked how old she was.

“What was his name?” you found yourself asking.

“His name was Karkat...” she murmured with a hint of a smile on her lips. “His first word, want to know what it was? Fuck. His first word, can you believe it?”

You laughed softly and sipped your tea. “What an odd first word.”

“He learned it from his father, no doubt. He was an angry fellow, but he had his sweet moments and he would never hurt me or the baby. After Karkat lost his short battle with cancer, my husband left me because I reminded him too much of our son. I don’t blame him for leaving,” she said and stirred her tea absentmindedly. “It’s a tragic thing, to lose a child when they’re that young...”

You nodded. “I can imagine...” you murmured softly. “I doubt you told John all of this?”

She shook her head. “No, of course I didn’t tell him everything. I just told him that I used to have a boy like him who had to leave... And that John reminded me of him.”

You could see it in her eyes, having John around had reminded her so much of her own son and while it was nice, it must have hurt her a little. 

“Want to know what he told me when you brought him back here?” she asked after a moment.

You nodded after a moment.

“He said, ‘Nana, I can be your Karkat tonight, okay?’ Your son is one of the sweetest boys I have ever met...” she said quietly before sipping her tea.

You smiled and looked over at your sleeping son. “I just hope I can afford to keep him happy.”

When John is three, you manage to snag a job that while didn’t pay as well as your old one, paid just enough that it allowed you to hire a babysitter instead of just using your neighbor. She was getting old and John was a growing boy. She didn’t quite have the energy to chase after the toddler who loved to run around and just talk your ear off. When you’d get to spend time with him, he’d always tell you about what he and Nana did that day or maybe even the day before if you came home when he was asleep. He was a bright kid.

Nana still watched him in the mornings, seeing as the kid you hired as your sitter had school. Though he was a lifesaver; he was willing to work everyday after school and weekends if you needed it. He’d cook John dinner and go home when you got home. Most of the time, John was asleep by the time you got home and the boy who watched him (Dave Strider was his name) agreed to fifty dollars a week. No matter how late you came home to relieve him of his duties.

Dave does a good job with John. You never hear a complaint about John’s behavior from Dave and John never comes crying to you about how he hates Dave so much! You figure that if they do have any problems, Dave handles them well or John’s little three year old mind lets him forget any problems they may have by the time you see him again.

You come home one day in September and Dave is nowhere to be seen. Confused, you go over to Nana’s and lo and behold, John is asleep on her couch and Ms. Maryam is sharing a pot of tea with the blonde teenager who watches your boy.

“Hey, Dave. Ms. Maryam, what’s the occasion?” you ask a little concerned.

Ms. Maryam smiles at you. “John wasn’t feeling well so Dave agreed to help me around the house while he rested. You hired a fine young man to watch your boy,” she says, approval in her voice.

Dave nods. He doesn’t smile often but when Ms. Maryam compliments him a slight smirk comes across his face. You sit down at the kitchen table along with them and Ms. Maryam gets up to pour you a cup of tea. You shake your head.

“It’s alright, I don’t need any,” you insist and she smiles at you before sitting back down.

“Are you sure, James?” she asks you a little teasingly and you chuckle.

“I’m positive. Dave, do you need a ride home?” you ask. Come to think of it, you never saw him go home. You just knew when you got home, he left and that was that.

He shakes his head and quickly pulls out his phone (it appears to be an iphone at that). You assume he sends a text and then puts away his phone. “My driver is coming to get me. He’ll be here soon,” he says like it’s no big deal.

You furrow your eyebrows. He has a driver? You were only paying him fifty dollars a week how could he afford a driver? Unless his parents were making a good deal of money...

“What do your parents do for a living?” you ask without thinking.

He shifts a little, a tad nervously. “Well... I don’t have any parents. My brother’s raised me since day one. I mean, when I was younger there was social workers coming over all the time to make sure he was doing a good job because well, he was emancipated when he was sixteen and then suddenly was taking care of his baby brother when he was seventeen so red flags went up to the Child Protective Services of the state of Texas.”

So his brother would be thirty or maybe even younger now if Dave was thirteen. You were only thirty two yourself.

“So, he somehow got it stuck in his mind that Washington was a better place to try and grow his puppet porn slash robot franchise. Trust me, I’m not into the puppets. Just the fact that it pretty much made him a millionaire overnight. Plus, people are willing to pay a lot of money for custom robots. My brother somehow managed to become one of the creepiest but richest men in Washington.”

You are officially kind of grossed out by the older Strider, but you are also amazed. In this economy you were barely managing to scrape by but there was a man out there doing puppet porn and making robots making enough money to be able to hire a driver to go pick up his younger brother.

Wow you were really unlucky.

Dave’s phone buzzes and he gets to his feet. “My ride’s here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Egbert,” he says before grabbing his backpack and leaving the house.

Ms. Maryam chuckles lightly. “He’s still a pretty good kid, no matter how much money his brother has,” she informs you and you sigh.

“I know... I’m just jealous. I wish I could provide for John the way Dave’s brother provides for him. Is that so wrong?” 

She shakes her head and sips her tea a little smugly. “There’s nothing wrong with that at all, but don’t go around treating the boy differently because his brother’s got cash... And yes, you still have to pay him.”

“Damn,” you mutter with a smile.

“Oh, I have something for John,” Ms. Maryam says after a few moments of silence. You watch her get up and leave the room. You think about following, but decide against it. Might as well wait.

She’s soon back in the room and easing herself carefully into the chair. She’s holding something blue in her hand and you can’t help but smile a little. You remember coming home from work one day and John telling you all about how Nana taught him the colors and that blue was his absolute favorite and that he was so lucky to have eyes that matched his favorite color. You chuckle softly at the fond memory.

Ms. Maryam is soon settled in her seat and she holds out something made of blue yarn for you to take. After a moment of examining it, you realize it’s a hat that she must’ve knitted for John.

“I made that for John when he told me that he knew what his favorite color was. It’s for when it gets cold outside. I hope he likes it,” she says quietly and with a smile.

You nod. “I’m sure he will. Thank you. Do you want me to take him home with me or may he spend the night?” you ask.

“He’s always welcome here. Let him spend the night. I’m sure he’ll feel better tomorrow. You deserve a good night’s rest. One free of worrying about your son and waking him up in the morning. Go home and sleep well,” she tells you with a smile and a glance at your sleeping son.

“Thank you for everything,” you tell her as you stand up and get ready to leave.

“Anytime, dear,” she calls out as you leave the house and you smile.

Once home, you decide that now is as good a time as any to sketch out something on the walls of your son’s room. A spur of the moment decision, but with a sharpie in hand there’s no going back. You’re a pretty good artist if you do say so yourself and you are rather impressed with the finished product of your sketching.

On the far wall of his room you’ve written “Daddy’s going to buy you a mockingbird.”

And while you don’t intend on buying him an actual mockingbird, you do plan on doing your best to support your little angel. It’s a promise for you to keep.


End file.
